


Lions and Tigers and Bears, Oh My!

by dramady, edonyx



Category: brassidy
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-10
Updated: 2010-03-10
Packaged: 2017-10-07 21:04:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/69230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dramady/pseuds/dramady, https://archiveofourown.org/users/edonyx/pseuds/edonyx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I thought we were friends..."</p><p><b>Disclaimer:</b> This is a non-profit, non-commercial work of fiction using the names and likenesses of real individuals. This fictional story is not intended to imply that the events herein actually occurred, or that the attitudes or behaviors described are engaged in or condoned by the real persons whose names are used without permission.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lions and Tigers and Bears, Oh My!

As usual, Cassidy and Cheeks partied _hard_ last night, and god, they were so fierce while doing it. Cassidy's in full Rock Star mode, wearing the extensions he'd gotten for the 'Fool' shoot, and hell, the whole damn costume. Brad, of course, had worn scandal pants, see-through in the right light, and it makes Cassidy wonder just exactly how Cheeks likes to be spread. Naughty thoughts to be having about a friend! Naughty.

But Cassidy's up before Brad is, putting coffee on and making sure the ashtray in his room is empty so they can do their obligatory smoke-and-caffeine while waking up, and then he sits at his piano, beautiful Gladys, and begins to play. Something soft so Cheeks doesn't wake up grumpy. A grumpy Cheeks is an unsparkly Cheeks and the world would probably collapse in on itself if that ever happened.

It's actually a fabulous way to wake up, Brad finds. Before he quite entirely surfaces, he dreams that he's shopping. And there's never anything wrong with that. One of the high-end stores (are there others?) with the piano and such. But lying on his stomach, Brad blinks open his eyes and he watches Cassidy's back. It's a fantastic back.

Has Brad mentioned that he likes having a friend he can sleep with (SLEEP with, you dirty girls, you). Cassidy is great for cuddling too. It's just really nice. Friends - true friends? - are really hard to come by in la-la land. And Cassidy's one of the good ones. When the song ends, Brad says, "good morning, sunshine."

"Good morning, Stardust," Cassidy grins, turning on the bench to face the sun, and Brad lounging in it like a cat. "I put coffee on in the kitchen. Don't raid the fridge, Barbie's got some food in there from last night and she'll eat me alive if anyone touches it. How'd you sleep? You were dreaming pretty heavy there for a while at first." He stands, stretches, and decides that maybe pants are a good idea. Yes, he's wearing underwear! They're not _those_ kinds of friends. Not to say that Cass hasn't fantasized, because come _on._ He could bounce a quarter off of Cheeks'... cheeks. He grins.

"Tighty whities?" Brad observes. "You know what they say about tighty whities, right?" But he grins. "I was having a very good dream. I don't remember any of it, but there were rainbows and unicorns, I'm pretty sure." It's so comfortable in Cassidy's bed, he's loathe to move. "What's that Gaga line about legs and eggs. We could go out for brunch."

"I could _make_ you brunch." Cassidy lounged out next to Cheeks on the bed. "I bet your dream was about you riding a rainbow unicorn. I bet it had wings. Only you dream of those sorts of things, sugar." He flopped onto his back and snapped the elastic band on his underwear. "Not like I have any intent on procreating anytime soon, Cheeky. I _was_ going to video you sleeping for my next webcast, but you looked too sweet with your mouth open like it was. What're you doing today? I'm going to cut my hair and do some shopping. Want to come with?"

"Oh, shut _up_, I don't sleep with my mouth open," Brad chortles, slapping at Cassidy's shoulder before rolling on his side. "Let's see. It's Sunday? I can go shopping. Are you going to whack at your hair with the razor again? You terrify me when you do that, I'll have you know. I would _never_."

It's on the tip of Cassidy's tongue to poke fun at the state of Brad's hair, but he's not quite _that_ mean. Plus, he liked Cheeks' hair! Soft and fine and fuzzy, and pretty damn cute. Cassidy's got enough hair that he can pull a hack and slash on it and three weeks later, it'll be fine. "I'm not going to actually cut it, I don't think." He runs his fingers through his hair, feeling the length of the extensions that are still in it, and offers Brad a sunny smile. "Do you like it longer?"

"You look very mysterious." Reaching up, Brad cards through Cassidy's hair and the extensions. "Very glamorous. You have amazing cheekbones." Unshaved from the night before with eye make up smudged around his eyes, Cassidy looks tired, but he still had those cat-like features that work so well on tape. "Did you say something about feeding me?"

"I said nothing about _feeding_ you, Cheeks." Cassidy lifts his chin so the sun hits his features just right, and his smile reappeared. It's rarely far from the surface, especially when he's hanging out with Brad. "I said I'd make food. You can feed yourself, pussycat. I should keep the extensions for a little while? You think? Where do you want to go shopping?"

"Keep them. I want to go to the vintage shops on Melrose, then we can eat at a place with a patio and have something fresh and crunchy for lunch. With mimosas. I think we should get you a pirate outfit. You'd look hot as a pirate." And the thing about it is that Brad isn't even kidding. He's sure that Cassidy would look amazing as a pirate, puffy shirt and all.

"Do you still have that wig from the Carrie Prejean thing you did? You could deck yourself out like a wench and we could go partying. Or! I could have a Ninjas versus Pirates party!" Cassidy slides off the bed, still in his underpants (tighty reds, not whities, but the principle remains the same), and holds a hand out to Brad. "I _love_ the vintage shops, honestly. And you've got such horrible taste in clothes that you really need a fashionista to take you out. You can pick the restaurant, though."

"You're a bitch," Brad tells him matter-of-factly. "I have great taste in clothes, so quit being mean to me, or else." Or else what, wasn't stated. Best to leave the looming threat looming. But he gives Cassidy a slap on the ass as he gets up, clad in one of Cassidy's t-shirts and a borrowed pair of boxers that barely hang on his hips. "I'm going to use your shower, now." And he looked over his shoulder. "We _could_ conserve water.... "

"Zounds!" Cassidy thumbs down his underwear and kicks it toward the hamper. "Two queers showering together and not fucking? The world will end!" But Cassidy's extensions will stay firmly in place. He fetches two towels out of the linen closet and ushers Cheeks toward the bathroom. "You want to go camping with me in a couple of weeks? There's this little cottage that I've got rented that I was going to go and play music and convene with nature, but it'd be nice to have company."

"... nature?" And Brad's nose wrinkles as he wriggles out of his sleeping clothes. Don't get him wrong; he's a fan of nature. To a degree. At a distance. "How much nature? Like ... A/C and shower-nature? With a full kitchen? Or are you talking more rustic than that?"

Cassidy leans past Brad in the bathroom to turn the water on. "No A/C, but there's a full kitchen and a shower... even a bathtub! But it's in the forest so it won't be disgustingly hot. There'll be lots of shade. I'm bringing an ounce of pot, three bottles of wine per night that we're there - you can never be too prepared, am I right? - and some of the most delicious organic goodies you can think of." He motions for Brad to get in the shower. "Besides, I need someone to tell me if my songs suck or not."

"Well, I can do _that_, no problem." Stepping under the spray, Brad reached up to run his fingers through his hair, head tilted back so that water washes down his face. "Who else have you invited? If you say Rawn, I'm not going. No offense, but ... anyway."

"It was just going to be me, all by myself!" Cassidy waits until Cheeks is wet down, then nudges him out of the way so he can do the same. "And I got to thinking last night, before we went out, that it'd be nice to have someone to bounce ideas off of. My own fairy godfather." He washes his extensions gently, not wanting them to come loose anytime soon. "But we can do marshmallows on a fire, make beautiful music, and just... get away."

Taking Cassidy's scrubby and body wash, Brad lathers up and he contemplated. That sounds ... _really_ nice actually. And it's not as if he's got pressing plans here in LA. "I'll go," he declares, going to his tiptoes to kiss Cassidy's nose. "That sounds like fun."

"Good, then it's settled. Bring comfy clothes. I've got the rest." Cassidy slathers shampoo into Brad's hair. "I'm glad you're going to come with me."

~*~

"Well?" Cassidy pushes the door open to the cabin. "What do you think?" It's 400 square feet if they're _lucky_, but it's neat and clean and homey-looking. "It's Jason's mom's cabin, and check it out, really? _Nobody_ around us."

"The silence echoed when you turned off your car engine," Brad agrees as he leans his rollerbag against the wall so he can give the place a good once-around. "It's charming," he decides after opening up a window to get some fresh air in. And the bed was only a queen. Hmmm. Interesting. Ah well, not like it's a cause for concern. Cuddling. "The fireplace," he declares as he walks up to it. "This means you know how to start a fire?"

"Lighter fluid, newspaper and there's wood on the other side of the cabin." Cassidy puts his bag by the bed and goes back out to the car to get his guitar and laptop, and a second trip brings in groceries and other, er, green things. "Now, the rule of the weekend is: no cellphones, no twitter. I've only got my laptop to record what I play. There isn't even internet connection here." Will Brad be _able_ to live without his cell for two and a half days? "This is _your_ Cheeky Friday. Help me put the food away, honey."

"Oh my God, I didn't even think about that." Shrugging off his jacket, Brad pulls his phone from his pocket and stares at it. Sure enough; no signal. There is a place in California where there's no signal. Who even _knew_?! But, obediently, he goes over to help Cassidy put things away. All Trader Joe's organics that look yummy on the box or in the mesh bag anyway. And _good_ wine. Yay!

When everything's stored, Brad pops himself onto the counter, legs dangling. "Are there bears?" (He doesn't camp much, really. That might be becoming obvious.)

"You mean, hairy gay men who want you to ride the tower of power?" Cassidy grins, uncorking one of the bottles and pouring two juice glasses of wine for the both of them. "Unfortunately, no. Real bears? I think so, but Jason's mom didn't say anything about them being around. I can go out and check for prints if you're afraid. Bears _love_ honey, you know." He kisses Brad's cheek and shushes him off the counter and toward the tiny livingroom. "I should put you out for bait."

"I refuse to be bear food. I've seen those videos of bear attacks!" Brad called as he curls up in a corner of the couch that's only slightly musty. "Frightening. I would be a snack, not even a whole meal. This is an unpleasant thought. Can you bring those rye crackers in when you come, please?" He sips at his wine. "You weren't a boy scout, were you?"

"But think, you'd be saving _my_ life, and that would make you a martyr. Saint Cheeks! And besides, the bear would probably crush your head before you could feel any pain. You'd be a hero." The rye crackers are retrieved, along with some sharp cheddar, and Cassidy curls up next to Brad on the sofa. "I wouldn't let a bear eat you, anyway. I'd get it drunk and record its noises for background for my album." He rests an arm across Brad's shoulders. "Tonight - _late_ tonight - I'll play. And you can tell me what you think. Tomorrow, we'll go for a walk after wake-and-bake and take in the nature. Like Hansel and Gretel."

"I'm Gretel, aren't I?" But Brad throws his legs over Cassidy's legs, snuggled in against his shoulder. "Are we going hiking? I didn't bring hiking boots." Okay, now he's just teasing. He's not _totally_ useless in the wild. Just mostly. He did google "poison ivy" too. Nibbling on cheese and a cracker, he made himself more comfortable.

"We are _walking._ So as long as you actually brought comfortable shoes and not those heels you seem to wear everywhere, then we'll be fine. You forget that I trekked across the country, Cheeks." For someone so miniature, Brad's _warm_ \- not that they need to be warm right now, the weather's gorgeous and fair - and he's a goddamn good snuggler. "I'm going to roll a four-paper joint in a little while, get supper ready, and then we can go outside and smoke it, eat, and let the magic happen. Is that a good plan for the day? Gretel?"

"Oh, yes, Hansel!" Brad trilled and gives Cassidy his mega-watt grin. On impulse, he leans up and kisses his friend on the mouth, a friendly peck. "You're my hero," he says as he leans back. "What kind of magic will we create, fair Hansel? Will the sky light up with glitter?"

"You're the one that's going to martyr yourself to the bears for me." Cassidy takes a drink of his wine, and laughs. "Oh wait, I said you didn't have to do that, didn't I?" He levered Brad's legs off his lap, because really, there's never a bad time to roll a four-paper joint, especially when it's just them and they've got the whole weekend stretched out in front of them. "I don't know what kind of magic will happen, but at least you'll be here to witness it!"

~*~

"So," Cassidy drawls, draped across the couch now, Brad stretched out alongside him. Once again, he's got his arm around Brad's shoulders, and Brad's head was _on_ Cassidy's shoulder. "Do you feel more like you're melting, or more like you're tingling? Like you're going to explode into glitter? Tell me you won't. I would be _sad._" The fire's going, wine is being consumed, and they are both _ridiculously high._

"If I exploded? But ... imagine," Brad says, hand waving idly in the air above them. "There would be so much _glitter_. Everyone would be happy. That's the way to go, you know? No sadness. If I die, I want lots of glitter and booze and music and dancing. In case something happens to me, that's your job, okay?" Not that he's ready to die. But life is a cycle, after all. It's cool.

"_I_ would be sad," Cassidy answered, sounding a little too sharp, considering how stoned he is. "I could make sure everyone else is okay, but I would be _so sad._" He looks Brad in the eye. "Believe me? Don't go dying on me or anything. Or exploding into glitter. Even though it'd probably be violet and blue and bright pink. Did I mention how much I loved that cold blue shoot you did with Nori? You looked _superb._" Then Cassidy leans up to touch his lips to Brad's, not a friendly kiss, but a _kiss_ nonetheless.

Brad believes Cassidy. Of course he does. He would say that if he weren't being kissed. But he's being kisses and not in the friendly peck way they usually do. And it's ... nice, actually. So nice that he touched his fingers to Cassidy's cheek and he kisses _back_. No more talk of dying.

Cassidy's always surprised by how light Brad is, whether it's to haul him to a dancefloor or to the bathroom to lean him over a toilet, or out of a cab and up into either one of their places. It means it's easy to pull Brad on top of him, feeling the slide of his weight against Cassidy's body, and it's even easier than that to lick into his mouth, a hand on Brad's jaw and the other on the nape of his neck, on that border between soft hair and smooth skin.

Okay, Brad's brain processes. He and Cassidy are making out. That's not that strange. Really, it was bound to happen. Two pretty boys? Of course. It's a law of physics. Or something. But what's surprising him some is how _easy_ it is to straddle Cassidy's hips and rub his tongue against Cassidy's in a way that makes goosebumps run up his back. Yummy.

And it's not as if they haven't made out before, usually when there's substance involved, such as... right now. The hand in Brad's hair slides down his back, as smooth and easy as oil, and cups his ass, and suddenly, it's _too_ easy to lift his hips up. Oh, _hi_, what's _this?_ Is Cassidy getting turned on by Brad? Could it be _so?_ Brad's mouth tastes like wine, like sour grapes and spring air and _freedom_ from all of the things that LA piles on them both.

Hmm. It does seem like Cassidy was getting turned on! As is Brad. Isn't biology amazing? When Cassidy grabs his ass, Brad was _compelled_ to rock his hips forward and will you look at _that_. Arousal. One of Brad's hands slides into Cassidy's hair and he cocks his head to lick in deeper.

That's when Cassidy asked the most obvious of questions: "Do you want to get naked? I think everyone needs to be naked together at one point or another." He tugs Brad's lower lip in his teeth. "I think you and I would look _great_ naked together. I think we'd _feel_ great, naked together." And bonus! The bed's right over there! "I think there's vegetable oil in the kitchen..."

"How so classy?" Brad is laughing as he levered himself to his feet. "You don't carry lube with you? I have it in my bag. Always prepared. Vegetable oil. Really." And yes, that is his way of saying yes, he'll get naked. The fire in the fireplace was warm and crackly and it lights to room really nicely. There were fresh sheets on the bed, too. At the foot of it, Brad steps on the toe of one sock, then the other to pull it off. Oh wait. He was going to get lube wasn't he? Change of course, over to his bag and his toiletries bag. And the three ounce bottle. Ta-da!

"Did you _intend_ to seduce me when you came up here? Or were you going to save it for when I was foraging for wild berries and _pleasure_ yourself?" Somehow, neither of these mental images are terrible. In fact, both of them are sort of delicious, and Cassidy slithered off the couch to follow Brad the ten steps to the bed, sidling up behind him to press his hips to Brad's ass. "I do _not_ always carry lube with me. Especially when I'm camping. Is it flavoured? Can I lick you?" Like right now, where his tongue outlines the edge of Brad's pretty ear.

"It's not flavored, and of course you can, handsome." Reaching back, Brad cups Cassidy's head as he swishes his hips from side to side. "You can do whatever you want to me, _especially_ if it involves your tongue. Or your cock. Fingers. I'm not picky." And apparently, he's _easy_. Ah, well. Brad's okay with that.

But it's not even Sunday Morning, so Cassidy can't make it into a song! That's alright, it's Brad's voice that Cassidy's itching to hear now, and he divests Brad's clothes from his body and pushes him down on his hands and knees on the bed. "Let's start with tongue. I always get such _awful_ drymouth when I'm high. Helps to... _lick_... things." His palms spread the Cheeks and Cassidy leans in, licking Brad from the base of his balls, around and around the tight pucker of his ass, then flicking up to his tailbone.

"Oooh." Back stretched out, Brad reaches over his head and fists his hands in the covers, his head down and he shivers. _Delicious_. "Oh, fuck, you're making me wonder why we didn't do this ages and ages ago." Not that he doesn't think Cassidy's sexy, because he _does_, now more than ever. "That is _very nice_."

Cheeks _is_ a cat, Cassidy's _sure_ of it, or at least he was in a past life. His hands squeeze Brad's ass (and oh lord, Brad's legs sure do make a spectacular ass out of themselves!), both pushing him forward and holding him open so Cassidy can lick, can press, can swirl his tongue, making room on the bed so that he can kneel behind Brad, pushing him up further so Cass can suck at the hard line behind his balls. Very, very nice. Without even using the Borat voice.

And Brad whimpers. He's not too proud to admit that. He's a _sensualist_ and this feels _good_. So there. When he's pushed forward, too, he can brace a hand on the wooden headboard and close his eyes, feeling just how his body flushes, his nipples pebble, his cock twitches and leaks, dragging against the sheets, how his pot-clouded mind imagines it can feel the very tastebuds on Cassidy's _tongue_. Magnificent.

Then Cheeks can also feel the way Cassidy breathes on his skin, cooling dampened skin, then feel when Cassidy leans in lower to suck again behind his balls, then drag his teeth there, little more than a shiver-inducing burr of enamel on skin. "Do you want my fingers, Cheeky? Do you want me to stretch you out _slow?_ I'm beginning to wonder how many times I might be able to make you come. How often do you get laid when you're high?" He straightens for a moment, pressing the _hard_ jut of his cock against the back of Brad's thigh. Just a pair of jeans between them. That's it, that's all. Cassidy rubs a long finger against Brad's ass.

Brad gasps, open-mouthed, first. "I don't get high as much as you do," he tells Cassidy with a flash of a smile thrown over his shoulder. "I'll take that challenge, though, if you're throwing it. God. Are you going to fuck me, Cassidy? That would be very nice, I think. Later, maybe I'll blow you. And blow your mind." _Two_ can play at that game, thank you very much.

The sound of Cassidy's hum reverberates in the last lick he gives Brad, and then he kisses up his back to the sharp point of Brad's shoulderblade. "Hope the boyscout in you has condoms. Then there _will_ be a boyscout in you." Hah! Puns! Cassidy is witty when he's high! He licks across the back of Brad's neck as he works on his own pants, unfastening them and pushing them down, kicking them to the floor with something less than grace. "Otherwise all you're getting is fingers, honey." Mmm. Fingers. And honey. But honey is runny and sticky and best used when they're _not_ high. "I bet you'd look _gorgeous_ sucking my cock."

"Toiletry bag," Brad says in the key of 'duh,' though his back is ached, emphasizing his spine. "You can see them from here. The Durex," he instructs.

Mmm, Brad's spine. Cassidy traces it out with his fingers and his mouth and his tongue, thinking about what Brad would look like if Cassidy could paint on him, swirls of glitter and gold. Urban Decay's Cake Powder to make him _so_ delicious. "Do you bring condoms everywhere? Get the lube open for me." Cass' gait is loose as he goes to Brad's toiletry bag and pops out the condoms, doing a little product display next to his erection. _There's_ product-placement! "Want to get on your back for me? I think I want to see your pretty face."

Holding the tube, Brad rolls to his back, knees bent. "Of course I bring them everywhere. What good is it if you're not prepared? I want to be, you know, ready." And he smiles again, all white teeth. "Aren't you sexy? Get that ass over here." Should this be more weird? Fucking a good friend? It probably should be. Ah well. Too bad Brad doesn't care. Or good that he doesn't. Or something.

Grinning, Cassidy kneels on the bed again, grabbing the lube from Cheeks to pop it open and spread some on his fingers. "I'm gonna make sure you're ready, Cheeky. _Lean_ into it." One hand braces on Brad's stomach while the other slides down the cut of his hip and between his legs, pressing _in_, in a slow, slick motion. They're _really_ doing this! And the part of Cassidy's mind that follows simple logic is saying that maybe they should have waited, but... what were they waiting for in the first place?

Well, there is the whole Adam Lambert thing, which is how Brad and Cassidy met in the first place. Despite popular belief all amazing gays in Hollywood _don't_ know each other. And there's the whole ... what's at phrase about pissing in your own kitchen or something? That's not quite right, but you get the idea. Brad tilts his head back and closes his eyes. "Mmmm."

Oh, Cassidy _likes_ that noise, and it makes him want to discover how musical Cheeks can be. One finger turns to two, then to _three_, rocking his knuckles back and forth against Brad's body, and then, polite and blurry, he asks for a condom. Now. Okay, maybe using 'now' isn't the most polite thing, but it's the most _urgent_ thing, when the desire he's got for Brad right now (or, to put it bluntly, he's horny as fuck) throbbing up against his hip. "Want to roll it on me? I can't lie, I'm dying for you to touch my cock."

"Well, why didn't you _say_ so?! I could've been touching your cock, sweetie. It's a lovely piece of machinery." Brad rips open the condom packet and pulls out the latex and _very slowly_ rolls it on, getting a good feel of Cassidy's cock as he does before he lies back again. "Give it to me, big boy. _Fuck me_."

"Do you always talk like this during sex?" Cassidy's voice is rumble-low by this point, hips tilted forward into Brad's touch. "I feel like I should have my camera out to document this for my next..." Oh, Brad's body is an easy distraction: once Brad's hands fall away, it's too easy to simply lean forward on one hand, the other around the base of his cock, pushing into the tight, slick grip of Brad's body. "I'm not a machine, honey. But I can go for a _long_ time..."

"Now who sounds like a happy-ending masseuse?" Brad gasps out a laugh as he legs his fingers slide down Cassidy's back to dig into the meat of his ass and urge him in _deeper_. "Or a geisha. You better not be all talk. We're too far in to regret this, right?" Not that he's big on regrets, but it _would_ suck if the sex was bad.

"I'm _all_ the way in," Cassidy grins, rolling his hips to prove a point. One hand rests on Brad's chest, and the other curls around Brad's cock now, stroking him at the same slow, firm pace that his hips move. Bad in bed? _Shame_ on Brad! Cassidy would _never_ disappoint a partner. And Cheeks is more than that, really. He's Cassidy's friend, and this _thing_ that's happening is going to be _awesome._ "God, I can feel every inch of you, _fuck._"

"You stole my line," Brad whispers, his head back, eyes slitted so that he's looking at Cassidy through his lashes. "I'm supposed to say that." When Cassidy thrusts in, he curls up even more, getting that angle so that it's _just_ right and makes him _shiver_. "Fuck me .... "

"You can still say it," Cassidy husks, changing the angle just a little bit more, getting his free hand under Brad's knee to push him back. Leaning down sharpens everything up even more, and Cassidy drags his tongue up the center of Brad's chest, right to the dip between his collarbones. And then- _snap. Snap. Snap._ His hips jar _hard_ against Brad's. Hey, Cheeks is the one who said 'fuck me', right?

"Oh, fuck, yes," Brad hisses out, fingertips digging into Cassidy's shoulders. "Fuck me. Fuck _me_, oh, God, hard. I love it hard, I _love_ it hard. Have I mentioned I love it when you fuck me _hard_. _Yes_."

"Oh man," Cassidy growls, leaning down to pull Brad's lower lip in his teeth. "We totally should have done this earlier than now. I just- your _skin._" Which he sucks hot, colored marks into, down Brad's neck and one on his upper chest. "And you _feel._ Oh god." It's right on the tip of his tongue to say something _heinous_ like 'This is what Adam gave up?', but even high, he's not that stupid. Fuck: _is_ this what Adam gave up?

Woah, talking about ruining the good mood. It's very good that Cassidy doesn't ask that out loud. That would really spoil things. In fact, Adam is mostly the Big Unspoken with Cassidy, which suits Brad just fine. Instead, now, Brad can concentrate on what Cassidy is doing to him, how he thinks Brad is a human pretzel (which he basically is) and how Cassidy is going to make Brad _come_.

Cassidy squeezes Brad's cock, rubbing his thumb under the flare of the head, using his knees to give him some _weight_ behind his thrusts, skinning a grin out down at Cheeks. Adam might have given this up, but Cassidy's _got_ it, pushing Brad tighter and closer to his orgasm. Lifting Brad's leg just that little bit more, Cassidy can get his socked foot - the other one is bare, oddly enough - up on his shoulder so he can lean on his hand. Pretty human pretzel. Pretty, pretty Brad.

And that angle, right _there_, is brutal. Vicious in that it makes Brad a mass of pleasure-fired nerve endings. "_Fuck,_, you magnificent - _bastard_ \- !" And that's all he can get out before he's _coming_, hard. So hard that he can't even make any noise.

"Oh fuck you, gorgeous," Cassidy whispers. He _is_ fucking Brad, and the tense and ripple of muscle around him crossed with the way the stroke of his hand goes slick and hot has him lunging down to lick hot kisses into Brad's mouth until his lips burn.

Since the angle doesn't really change, it's almost as if Brad is being _assaulted_ with pleasure. He can't escape it, can't get away from it. Can't do anything but _take_ it. It's perfect that way, really. He's at the whim of Cassidy's hips and his cock. And he's _just fine_ with that.

The look on Brad's face is what does it, even though the roll and thrust of Cassidy's body into Brad's has him teetering, _skidding_ along a plateau of pleasure until it spikes sharply. Cassidy lets out a breathy, tight sound, hips stuttering and stalling against Brad's when he comes, their mouths just a breath away from each other. "Oh. Oh my god."

Hands sliding from Cassidy's shoulder to cradle his face, Brad watches him as he pants, feeling the sharp jut of his cheekbones under his hands. "Well. That was interesting, wasn't it?" But his smile is bright, all teeth and bright eyes. "I'm coming off my high, though. What are we going to do about that?"

"The solution is obvious, sweet Cheeks. Get it? Sweetcheeks?" Cassidy pulls his hips back, pulling off and knotting the condom somewhere in there. It goes over his shoulder. Who cares. "You know, come to think of it? Me too. Let's do another bowl and make _real_ music. And I'll make more things to munch on, and you can refill the wine."

Somehow, that night, they end up sleeping with their heads at the foot of the bed, the covers tangled around their waists. They're naked, legs hooked together, Brad's head on Cassidy's chest.

When the sun comes up, they don't really stir. In fact, it's nearly nine AM before either of them starts to move, thanks to the wine and the pot. But when Brad starts to wake, he turns his head in, rubbing his nose along Cassidy's collarbone. "Mmm. Hmmm." And he settles again, falling back to sleep.

Funny, the noise that Cassidy makes sounds like agreement, and they're both quiet and still until around ten, when Cassidy lifts his head from the pillow, blinking owlishly at who he's sleeping with. And how they've been sleeping. Mmm. He kisses Brad's hair before trying to slide out from under him, but red wine is a _mistress_, leaving Cassidy feeling dry-mouthed and headachey. He's not particularly graceful. "Sorry, sorry," he whispers. "Just stay asleep."

"If you're getting water and aspirin, I will do your bidding if you bring me some, please." Brad rolls to his stomach, chin pillowed on his hands. "It seems the sun is brighter up here. Who knew?"

"No pollution," Cassidy answers, getting a pair of waters and a quad of aspirin. Then it's back into bed, back up against where Brad's warm and comfortable and dappled in sunlight, and taps Brad's lower lip for him to open up. "Here, honey, you'll feel better in about half an hour."

Like a baby bird, Brad opens his mouth and lets himself be fed aspirin, then he sips water, getting himself so that he's cuddled back against Cassidy's chest. "I've decided we shouldn't be weird about this," he says, eyes closed. "I think we can do this. Be ... whatever we are, now. I declare it."

It's easy to say when there's no one else around, no one to hear that promise, and it's an easy promise to keep when they spent the weekend playing no music at all except making the bed squeak and making each other make _sounds_ and _breaths_. When Brad and Cassidy get back to LA? Might be a different story.

Because after dropping Brad off, Cassidy stops calling him.

At first, Brad's busy doing ... well, what Cheeks does. He's a busy man. He's got emails to answer, merchandise to look over, etc, etc. But it starts to sink in that he's been _ditched_ about thirty-six hours after he's home. But Brad isn't one to take anything like this lying down. So, he calls Cassidy, holding the phone to his ear as he listens to it ring.

_Hi, you've reached the voice mail of Cassidy Haley. Any business phonecalls can either leave a message, or contact my booking agent at XXX-XXXX. Thanks._ Cassidy's looking at the call display and at Brad's twinkly smiling face that goes with the number. He's deliberately not answering, okay? And he's got a reason for it. The reason has a name, it starts in Adam and ends in Lambert, and Cassidy's always had this good border between Adam and Brad. Cheeks and Adam still talk, hell, he came to Adam's birthday party! But Cassidy's been the neutral between them, and now he's crossed that line. He doesn't even know what to say to Brad if he answers.

Okay. Well. Since Brad knows that Cassidy is linked to his phone like Brad is, he can only assume that Cassidy is screening his calls. Fine. "Cassidy, _hi_, Cheeks here. Listen. I could have sworn we spent an amazing two days having amazing sex and good times out up in the wilderness. But I'm assuming since you've _ditched_ me, that I was alone in that memory. Fantastic. Good to know. Take care." And he hangs up, the _asshole_ at the end of the sentence left unspoken, but hanging there nonetheless. Fine. If that's the way Cassidy wants it? _Fine_. Brad sets his phone down, and starts to get ready. He's got people to do, things to see.

After picking up the voicemail, Cassidy tweets: _forgot where the boundaries lie and can't avoid the oncoming collision._ Then his phone is pushed aside. Out of sight, out of mind, right? While he works on drawings for his next video, while he tries to write music, and definitely while he ustreams. But once all of that's done, he's reaching for his phone to see if Cheeks would answer. He _has_ to understand the Adam Factor, here. Please, let him understand.

_Hi! You know who you've called, don't you? And you know I'll call you back. Eventually. Take care and have a sparkly day!_

A sparkly day. Fuck you, gorgeous. Cassidy puts his phone down again, screen-down and stands to go through his closet. He's going to get coffee.

But for Cassidy to leave his phone behind would be like leaving his keys behind (been there, done that), or one of his shoes. He swipes it off the table and puts it in his pocket. Fine. If Cheeks wants him to wait, he'll wait. And he'll have his phone right there. His willpower lasts just until he's sat down with his coffee in hand, and Cassidy's getting his phone out to quick-dial Brad's number.

_Hi! You know .... _

Brad, see, is _shopping_ and that's serious business and involves a lot of money that he doesn't technically have to spend, but fashion calls. He's drag Das along and he's thinking of himself as a chrysalis. He's remaking himself, because apparently he needs to. Apparently even to one of his best friends, he's become an easy lay and that's it. Which is _unacceptable_. He's _Cheeks_. He brings joy to people, Goddammit! He holds up a mesh shirt with sequins sewn into it. "Yes? No? Be honest." Das lowers his sunglasses, as if to say _when am I not honest?_

"Humor me," Brad tells him. He's got a rebirth to stage. And glitter is _essential_.

"Good."

"Okay," Brad says, putting the shirt over his arm. "Good."

Cassidy calls four more times, and then finally leaves a message. "Cheeks? It's Cassidy. Call me, okay? Seriously." By this point, Cassidy's home, and Barbie's bringing out the wine. She wants to have The Talk with Cassidy, about exes and friends and who could fuck who. The birds and the bees. They get drunk and Cassidy starts writing new music. Cheeks shops, Cassidy writes. But it's a safety thing. Cassidy stepped over a line up at the cottage with Brad, and despite Cassidy's avoidance in calling Brad, now that Cheeks is playing hard to get? Cassidy wants to talk.

It figures. _Men_. It's not until after Brad's cataloged all of his new clothes, sorted through his old clothes and re-organized his closet that he listens to Cassidy's message. Call him. Seriously. Because apparently Brad might call him _frivolously_. Or comically. Or something. He tweets, first. _Isn't fate a funny thing? Sometimes it's subtle. Other times, it slaps us right in the kisser_.

Then Brad makes himself a drink, something nice and fruity and tangy. And once he's curled into the corner of the sofa that he looks at his contacts and pauses with his thumb over the 'call' button with Cassidy's name highlighted. He finally dials and he puts it on speakerphone. And he waits.

"About time," Cassidy answers, and then realizes what kind of fucking hypocrite he is for saying that. "Hi, Cheeks. I saw your tweet." He's got Brad on speaker too, incidentally, while he doodles something out for the next Catalyst magazine. "I'm sorry, I guess."

"You're sorry, you guess. That's ... just really great, Cassidy. That you guess you're sorry. I mean, don't think that I'm sitting over here heartbroken. Because I'm not. But I _would_ expect a smidgen of respect? For our friendship if nothing else. But no. I don't get how you don't get that, but ... " Cassidy can practically _hear_ Brad shrug. "Is that why you told me to call you? So you could tell me you guess you were sorry?"

"No," Cass starts, tries to interrupt. "It's just- I do- Brad, wait." But then Cheeks is done talking and Cassidy leans back in his chair. "I'm friends with you. And I'm friends with Adam. And I know things are okay between you, but what we did was something we shouldn't have done. And I'm sorry I overstepped that, okay? I didn't call because I didn't know what to say. I'm sorry. You wanna meet me for- no, I'm drunk. Come over and have wine with me and we'll talk for real."

For a moment, Brad doesn't answer. He's too busy staring at his phone with disbelief. "Seriously? Seriously. Cassidy, I just ... I'm not coming over to talk with you. Clearly, you've already made up your mind and I have no say in what we should and shouldn't have done. So I'm ... okay. I just ... I am going to go. I'm going to go dancing. I'm going to ... _dancing_ and you're going to harbor this delusion that Adam cares if we fuck. Okay? Buh-bye now." And he ends the call and holds the phone with white knuckles to keep from tossing it across the room with vigor.

He hadn't been planning on going dancing, but now he is. Which means he needs to get dressed to go out.

Cassidy entertains the idea of going to any of the clubs that Brad usually goes to, to find him. He entertains it for about thirty seconds and then realizes he's an asshole. Tonight, he'll ustream drunk, play songs on Gladys, and have people tell him they love him. That's the way to go.

The days in LA all tend to blur together. All sunny, all just right in the warmth. Brad suns himself on the roof, he puts together a video that he decides not to post, seeing as isn't probably only funny to him. And then really, to him, it's not that funny. He works on his screenplay. He goes to a different dance class. It's his life. It is what it is. He flirts with random boys and idly hopes that it's more than that, but it never is. It's only after five days that he realizes that he's _depressed_. Ugh. Boo.

Cassidy's filled his days with filming episodes of 6 Months, taking pictures of himself in his underwear and posting them on Twitter. He goes to the gym, does a silks class and sort of hopes that Cheeks is in one of the dance classes in the same building. And he still feels like an asshole. So of course, he caves and calls Brad again. "Hey, you want to go out tonight?"

"... why?" Brad asks him as he's mixing some yogurt into his orange juice to see if that makes an Orange Julius. It doesn't seem to be the case. Count that as one failed experiment. Down it goes down the sink. "You haven't found someone to go with that you can fuck without self-imposed strings?"

"Because I thought we were friends, and that I needed to respect that, so, as a friend, I'm asking you to go out dancing with me tonight." Cassidy whisks through his closet, looking for something he can throw together. An off the shoulder shimmery top, lots of smokey eye makeup, tight pants, boots. That works. "I'll even DD."

"Maybe I don't feel like going dancing," Brad tells him, phone wedged between his shoulder and his ear as he picks at a cuticle.

Except that Cheeks not feeling like dancing is like the Earth tilting off its axis. Bugger.

"Fine," Brad tells Cassidy. "I'll be ready in an hour." And he ends the call. He'll look _amazing_. Goddamnit.

Cassidy picks Brad up exactly one hour later, because a late Cheeks is only _fashionably_ late. But if he says he'll be ready in an hour, he _means_ it. Cass waits outside in his car and honks the horn to let Cheeks know he's here.

There's a pause and then the door opens and Brad comes out, locking the door behind himself before he comes to the car. He's wearing low-cut jeans that barely hang on his hips, a babydoll t-shirt and a vest over that. His hair is swept over his forehead and there's glitter sprinkled in it. When he climbs into the car, Cassidy can see the liner smudged around his eyes. Brad buckles in and says, lightly, chin up, "hi."

"Hey." Cheeks looks so _pretty._ And that's only in the on-off light inside the car. Cassidy knows what he'll look like against the strobing club lights. He'll look part feline, part sex toy, and part shiny disco ball. And it makes him feel territorial, just for a second, and it's the _wrong_ way to feel. He's the one that's trying to uphold boundaries, which means Cheeks can flitter off with anyone he wants once they get there. He's done it before, and so has Cassidy.

Brad holds to the door of the car with one hand as if grounding himself. "Where are we going?" he asks, not quite looking at Cassidy, but out the window, at the houses, at the streetlights. At everything but Cassidy.

"Miss Kitty's. They've got cheap shots on tonight." Which normally would be no big deal, but Cassidy's already volunteered to DD, and to mention that there are cheap shots could have Cheeks thinking that Cassidy's trying to get him drunk. Or! Cassidy's just being paranoid. For possibly the first time in his life, he's intimidated by Brad Bell, and doesn't know what else to talk to him about. When they come up to the club, there's a decent lineup outside, and Cassidy offers, too, "I'll get your cover."

"Gee, thanks." Cheap drinks and covering the ten bucks to get Brad inside. Brad crosses his arms over his chest and continues to look everywhere but at Cassidy. Maybe there will be someone he knows here. Or a cute guy.

What sucks about this is that Brad thinks Cassidy looks fantastic. Good enough to eat. Yummy. "Adam wouldn't care, you know," Brad feels compelled to say. "He's got a lot on his plate right now. More than caring about who his ex fucks. Or about who does what, even. And it's not like we party with him all the time and he'd be the fucking third wheel." Said tightly, quietly, but sharply.

It's not like they haven't been coming to Miss Kitty's almost biweekly since they've known each other, so Cheeks shouldn't look quite so put out by the idea of coming here. But Brad's words are as sharp as a knife, yes, and Cassidy turns a dark look at him. "We both have enough noteriety for it to- fuck. Fuck it. He's not a third wheel. Does his ex want to fuck me? I don't know. But I know that I shouldn't have fucked Adam's ex. Because you're my _friend_ and I don't know how to go back. Here's your fucking shot." It's something pink and orange and fruity-smelling.

"You - " Brad holds the drink like it's something that might bite him. "What if I don't want to go back? You control freak person - you made the rules and you fucking didn't tell me!"

Yes, they're having an argument in the middle of the dance club? They are. And your point?

"I at least need to be told the rules. If you were just going to have a free-for-fuck weekend with me, you should have fucking told me," Brad accuses, finger poking into Cassidy's chest.

Cassidy grabs Brad's wrist, snapping his hand down, and pulls him in. "It _wasn't_ a free-for-fuck weekend and that's what's bothering me. I wanted to go back to being friends, and you want to be _boyfriends?_ What if you hate me? What if you end up thinking we're only together because we fuck like minx. What if things get fucked up beyond repair and we aren't _even_ friends?" Cassidy nods at the shot in Brad's other hand. "I bought you a drink. Try it. You might like it."

"Cassidy Haley, you are _killing_ me. I don't want your fucking drink. See what you're doing?!" Brad nearly barks as he hands his drink to some poor sap who walks by, looking stunned. "You can't control everything no matter how you try. You ... you've got it all decided, haven't you. I just would've liked a head's up is all."

And suddenly, Brad doesn't feel like dancing anymore (not that he really did before, but anyway). He sighs again, arms crossed over his chest. "I want to go home."

Cassidy's jaw goes tense and he lets go of Brad's wrist. Fine. Fine! If he wants to go home, he can. But Cassidy's staying, so fuck that plan. He turns his back to Brad and lets him find his own way out. _Everything I touch, I break._

So that's it, then?

Wow.

Brad was _so_ wrong about Cassidy apparently. Even though Cassidy can't see it, for a moment, Brad's face is entirely bare and _hurt_, then he covers that, turns, and vanishes into the crowd and is gone.

That night, Cassidy drinks too much - _way_ too much - leaves his car at the club and cabs home, sloshes up to his room and picks up a pen.

~*~

In the morning, his head is nothing short of _heinous_, but the first thing Cassidy thinks is that he's in bed by himself. Nine times out of ten, they both end up in one of their beds together after a night out. But last night hadn't ended fun. It had ended with Cassidy turning his back on Brad because he didn't have the balls to stop him. Goddamn it. His phone is underneath pages of partially written songs, words that had come out just because they were there, and now they don't make sense at all. Cassidy gathers the papers up and pushes them into the garbage, and dials Brad's number with his other hand.

_Leave a message_ the voicemail says, terse and to the point and nothing more.

Cassidy doesn't leave a message.

He calls again about three hours later, after a pair of aspirin and a long shower. He's done his underwear shot for the day - sunny yellow! - and now he needs to try and fix this thing he's breaking farther and farther apart. It's his own vicious circle: trying to avoid breaking anything when they get out of his control. Tighten control to fix the break. Things break further. Wash, rinse, repeat. "Please call me," he says this time, and hangs up.

About two hours pass before Cassidy gets a text. _I have no reason to call you_, from Cheeks. Brad is having brunch with his favorite ladyfriend, and he's bending her ear about how he hates when people are so duplicitous and dishonest. Of course, Vedra being Vedra, she calls him on it and he has to tell the whole sordid tale. It isn't pretty, but for what it's worth, Vedra agrees that Cassidy is an ass. Brad shouldn't be so pleased about that, but he is. He never claimed to not be petty.

_Call me when you get home? Please?_ Yes, in those two hours, Cassidy called Parker to see if Brad was around. _Weak._ Cassidy's unloaded on Blaise, telling the whole sordid tale from _his_ side, and no, it isn't pretty. Blaise agrees with Brad and Vedra, Cassidy's a _complete_ asshole. Hence the text. _I'm so sorry._

"Well you should be," Brad tells his phone, which doesn't answer him of course. And for a while, he doesn't call Cassidy, because Cassidy is an asshole.

And it isn't like Brad wants to be _married_.

But how many times during that weekend had Cassidy said "We should have done this before?" Just to dump him like that the minute they get back? Which, coincidentally, _ruined_ their friendship, which Cassidy said he _didn't_ want to do. And he did.

They had a really good time is all. And it had made Brad think that maybe there _was_ something there. Which is maybe why it hurt so much to be ignored.

This is a lot of thinking.

Brad makes himself a cup of jasmine green tea and he holds it in his hands and he sits and looks out the window at the LA night sky, his knees tucked up to his chest; his phone is balanced on the arm of the couch. Finally, he dials Cassidy, saying, when he hears the 'hello,' "I don't know why I'm calling."

"Because I asked you to?" Cassidy comes back with. He sounds sheepish and embarrassed and pretty fucking low. He's trying to read, but there's music on and it's distracting. The silence is even worse, though. "Did you get home alright?"

"Obviously," comes the arch reply and Brad bites back a sigh. "I didn't call because you asked me to. I have no compulsion to meet your requests, since you'd made it clear that what I want or feel doesn't matter."

"I've got all these stupid reasons running through my head." An elbow comes down on his table and Cassidy rests his head in his hand. "Adam's in a lot of them. But even more of the reasons are because of _me._ Like, fuck. I had this thought that if you and I were together and it was _so good_... that I'd get mad at Adam for giving that up. It's fucking stupid." He's quiet for a minute, rubbing the heel of his hand against his temple. "I'm really glad you called."

"So, you wanted to be with me, but if we were together, you would've ... God, you gorgeous _fool_." Brad has to set his tea down for this, or his gesturing will knock it over. "You think that it was all Adam's decision. That between him and you, that I am a plant that is passed from person to person or something? Where's my free will in all this? What if it was _me_ who wanted to end it with Adam, did that ever occur to you, you control freak? Honestly."

"I told you it was a stupid thought!" Cassidy fires back. "I _know_ how it went, Glambert told me. I just think that if the two of you had what I thought we could have, then he's an idiot for not fighting for it. Okay? Do you know how _bad_ I am at this? How many relationships have you seen me have? Come on." He sighs. See? In trying to fix it, he breaks it more. Until there's nothing left at all. He _is_ a control freak, and doesn't say anything to counter those words.

"Cassidy Haley." Brad's tone gentles. "I know how bad you are, okay? I remember what happened with you and Jonny. But I also know that you're sweet and earnest and think you can save everyone and you're a champ in the sack." He turns to look out the window again, but it's dark enough that he just sees his own reflection in the glass. "What do you want? Tell me that?"

"I _loved_ him more than I thought I'd love anyone. And I fucked it up. So I flake along, and then _you_ happen to me, and... I fucked it up. So I pushed it away and... whatever." Another sigh, and Cassidy shakes his head. "I want you to come over. I don't want to do it in a club, and I don't want to do it over the phone. I'd like to see you."

"Do what, Cassidy?" Brad is, it seems, working to make Cassidy be _clear_. There's no sense in rehashing the SkinGraft break-up. It's a thing of legend. Just like Bradam, he supposes. Water, a raging river, under the bridge. "What do you want to do face to face?"

"Talk to you. You're a fantastic master at sounding chipper and okay and firm, but I want to look at you when you talk. So I know how much shit I've done. Is that too much to ask?" He looks around his room for a reason to give. "I can order Thai and we can drink hot sake?" The sheets are tugged up on his bed and laundry's kicked toward the hamper. "I... I want to look at you and know I've made a right decision."

"The right decision to blow me off? I can tell you that that wasn't the right decision," Brad tells him, but he's standing up and looking for his keys. "Even if we're just friends, you disrespected me. It's important I say that. I'll be there in thirty minutes."

He's getting good at hanging up on Cassidy as he pulls on a jacket and heads for the door.

It barely gives Cassidy time to order food, to clean his shit up, to put his notebooks and sketchpads away. He makes sure his room's pretty tidy, comfortable, lived-in, rumpled, but tidy, and then waits for Brad to arrive. Blaise said he'd let Brad up.

And he does. and Brad comes Cassidy's room and peers into the doorway, just his head around the doorway. He watches for a minute, the way Cassidy moves in his own space. "Hi."

"Hey, come on in, okay? Food'll be delivered in about twenty minutes, hot sake and all." Cassidy slouches in a chair by the window. "You okay?"

"Of course I'm okay." Brad comes in, but just some, leaning against the wall right inside the door. "I'm always okay. I'm the epitome of okay." And he looks back at Cassidy. "Are you?"

"What do you think?" Cassidy nods at the door for Brad to close it. "I'm miserable because I'm a pretty good champ at making a fucking mess, am I right? And I wish you'd let me answer before you hung up on me. I mean, I deserved it. Whatever. But I said _a_ right decision, not _the_ right decision. Please? Sit down. You're making me nervous by standing there." Out of nervous habit, Cassidy checks his phone. Twitter, sure. Always. But it's put away. "I want to know what you think. I want to know if you want to try something with me... if you think we can do it."

Prying himself off the wall, Brad goes over to the piano and pulls out the bench to sit on it, feet tucked under on his tip toes under the bench. "You really hurt my feelings when you blew me off, okay? I know why you did it now, but that doesn't change. And then you blew me off when I called you. That doesn't change. You accused me of wanting to get into your space or something when we finally did talk, which wasn't accurate and you turned your back on me at the bar. That's a lot of strikes."

But he holds his hand up to staunch the flow of whatever Cassidy might be getting ready to say. "Remember after Alisan's show, when we went to take that guy's wallet back? How you were all like 'we're going to _save_ this guy'? Remember that? You were so ridiculous but we had such a good time. See, that's the thing. I have a really good time with you, Cassidy. Until you get all weird. So that's what I wonder. If we get together, would you get all weird? Do not want the weird."

"You said you wanted to go home. I wanted to _take_ you home, and it-" Cassidy shakes his head again, and Blaise calls that the food is here, so Cass better come and pay the guy! When he passes by Brad, Cassidy touches his jaw, just a glance of fingertips. He's gone a minute or two, and comes back in with two bags of hot Thai and hot sake. "-It really freaked me out." To finish that thought. "I'm needy and if I get too close to things, I break them. Think you can handle that baggage?"

That's the question, isn't it?

Brad sits on Cassidy's piano bench and watches him and chews in his lower lip. "There's nothing wrong with needy," he finally says. "Everybody's needy now and again. The question is: what balances the neediness? Is it awesomeness? These moments that seem like glittery rainbows after a rainstorm? Or is it just, like, manic depression in relationship form? Because, really, been there, done that, and I've already got the t-shirt."

Cassidy pours out sake for both of them, and takes a sip of his own. "You know me better than... just about anyone. And I feel like if I add _this_ onto it, then I'll get my heart broken." Huh. Look at that. Adam Lambert wasn't the reason _after_ all. It only took a lot of wine and to have Brad right in front of him to realize it. Sorry about that, Adam! "Come and sit with me. I'll show you an wicked chopstick trick, alright?"

Again, Brad just watches Cassidy for a moment. Yes, he does know Cassidy. Very well, in fact. And he knows how unsure Cassidy is, which, in Brad's mind, is _ridiculous_, because of, well, everything. So he doesn't answer the other stuff and he goes to sit next to Cassidy, close enough so that their thighs touch. "Show me the wicked chopstick trick."

It's actually a pretty lame chopstick trick, but it got Brad to sit beside Cassidy, and that's a good start. The trick involves Cassidy getting some food in between the chopsticks and holding it out to Brad, hands just the slightest bit unsteady with all the wine he's had to drink. And now he's adding sake! "Would you break my heart, Cheeks?"

"That's not a trick, Cassidy," Brad tells him and he holds Cassidy's wrist to steady it. He takes the food because he doesn't want it to spill all over them and he keeps looking as he chews. "I feel the safest thing to say is that I wouldn't intentionally break your heart. That's not my thing. But that's not to say that it might not happen. I can't promise all sunshine and rainbows, only mostly sunshine and rainbows."

"What do you want us to be?" Cassidy looks down into the box of food he's eating, coming up with some noodles and peanut sauce for his efforts. "Because if we let this be _something_, then I'm gonna be all in. You know that about me, honey. I don't do it at all, or I'm all in. I can deal with clouds as long as there's sunshine and rainbows, mostly." But he's frowning pretty severely at the food, knowing that if Cheeks has him, then Brad can do whatever he wants to Cassidy.

"I hadn't thought of us being anything until you seduced me at that cabin, you know." There's a need to point that out. Brad says, "We were friends. You're picking at your food. Eat it, sweetie." He takes the carton and the chopsticks and gets some, offering it to Cassidy. "I don't know, honestly. I just know that I didn't want it to be weird. That's all. I hated the idea that you were blowing me off. So, now that we've kind of worked that through, what say we kind of ... figure it out together, mmm?"

Cassidy takes the food from Cheeks' chopsticks and chews, thinking. It's probably not a bad idea he's eating more than he's drinking, because maybe that'll clear his head a little bit. "Now that you know why I was blowing you off, you don't hate me, right?" Now those furrowed brows are focused on Brad instead of the food they're eating. "You wanna stay here tonight? Just... I don't know, just to talk?"

"I didn't hate you before." Another important thing to note. Brad takes a bite for himself before he answers, and then his answer is a nod, anyway. "Sure. You can play Gladys for me. And we can talk. Sure." He takes another bite before offering one up to Cassidy.

Once the Thai is gone, Cassidy does sit at Gladys, playing Brad everything he's written in the last week or so. A lot of it is sappy and obviously written when he was drunk, but Cassidy sort of doesn't care right now. It was how he felt, and he's sharing it with Brad. Into the fourth song, he nods at the bench, where there's room for Brad to sit with him. If he wants.

This is part of what is appealing about Cassidy to Brad, see. It's difficult to explain. But the fact that Cassidy wears everything so transparently on his shoulders for everyone to see is something that Brad envies. Someone so guarded and careful need someone who's not to balance things out. When he comes to sit next to Cassidy, Brad rests his cheek on his shoulder.

"Hi," Cassidy says in the middle of singing, not missing a beat. Drunk or not (Cassidy's a whole lot closer to 'not' now, thank goodness), music is _his_, and he can do it. Then he tips his head against Brad's, not watching where his fingers go or noticing what keys they hit. Brad _should_ be a star, Go Cheeks Go!, he's got the personality and the wit, and that cutting _queer_ thing that make people _want_ to be friends with him. And after what happened at the cottage, Cassidy was sure he'd gone over some boundary so far that he didn't know his way back. But Brad is here and he makes Cassidy want to try and live beyond that boundary.

God, he's maudlin when he's been drinking, even if he's sobering off.

"Hi. You have very competent hands, I've noticed," Brad tells him. "Strong. Like they know things. They know how to do things. I like them." He runs his finger along one of Cassidy's knuckles. He keeps his cheek right where it is, because this is cozy. "You should take some aspirin to avert a hangover."

"I'll have water first," Cassidy sings, and then laughs. "I'm not afraid to work on things with my hands, if that's what you mean." Brad's touch feels like it runs up his arm, right, connecting a circuit between his hand and his shoulder, and he turns to kiss the top of Brad's head. "Do you think this is going to work?"

"What 'this'? This us we haven't decided about?" Brad shrugs his outside shoulder. "Anything's possible. I imagine if we decided we wanted to fly, you could make us wings. So ... we decide. And if we decide we want it to work, most likely it will. And if it doesn't, well," Brad raises his head to look at Cassidy. "That doesn't mean I don't love you."

Cassidy couches his mouth to one side, as if pondering what Brad's saying. "So, what if I'm scared? Are you going to understand if I fuck up? Can you be my knight in rainbow armour?" As soon as he says it, though, Cassidy bites the insides of his cheeks. It only lasts for a moment before he's laughing. "Sorry. In my head, you were riding a bald eagle, and it was... inappropriate." His fingers lift from the keys so he can rest a hand on Brad's thigh. "Don't think I don't love you too, Cheeks."

"You're such a dork." Brad covers Cassidy's hand with his and laces their fingers together. "You should sleep off all the wine you drank. I'll stay and watch over you and ponder the logistics of riding a bald eagle, which is probably against the law. That makes it more appealing, I'll have you know. Come on." He stands up and tugs Cassidy toward his bed. "I'll get you water and aspirin. And you know I'll understand if you fuck up."

"I'm not that drunk anymore." Cassidy allows himself to be led to bed, and there's comfort found in knowing they're on the same page again. So he pulls Brad down on the bed with him, stretching out side by side with enough space that it's not... grabby. But close enough that he can touch Brad if he wants. "I'm just... selfish. And afraid of being hurt. And when we did that at the cottage, I thought it was Adam and that things would be weird for the three of us. And I realized it was me. I was the one being weird about it. I'm sorry."

"You're forgiven." Brad, resting on his side, head pillowed in his hand, looks back at Cassidy. "And you are selfish and scared and all that, and that's part of being human. But to really be human, we have to overcome that stuff and reach for more. You know this. What's life without risk?" And he flashes a grin. "Who said that? Yogi Bear?"

"Hey, Boo-Boo," Cassidy grins. "You're the most sparkly person I know. What was that shit when you got sick and you compared it to coming out of a chrysalis? That was cheesy shit, Cheeks. It was just a flu." But it's that outlook that Cassidy wants to learn from Brad; it's easy to say, of course, but so _hard_ to put it into action _all_ the time. And some how Brad manages to do that. Cassidy hooks an arm around Brad's shoulders to pull him down into the first kiss he's given Cheeks since they were at the cottage.

"You call it flu, I call it rebirth. Don't rain on my parade, mister." Brad kisses Cassidy one more time before leaning back to look at him properly. "We're not going to fuck when you're half-drunk still and we haven't sussed things out. Tomorrow, we can suss and stuff. Now you sleep."

"Who said anything about fucking?" That calls for Brad to be shooed off the bed. Pint-sized jerk. But not really. "You go and get your sparkly cures and I'll shut my eyes, okay? Tomorrow is for sussing. Are you going to stay? Eat Thai leftovers and watch TV?" Which is Cassidy's way of asking for Brad to stay.

"Maybe." Cassidy gets one more kiss on the forehead. "I'll be here when you wake up." Which is Brad's way of saying yes.

When the sun comes up, spreading across Cassidy's room. Brad is curled up on Cassidy's bed, his back to Cassidy's chest, covers drawn up to his chin.

Cassidy's arm is draped over Brad's waist, and it feels incredibly natural to kiss the back of his neck, even before either of them have their eyes open. It's that same sense of quiet, of just _them_ that they'd had at the cottage, except this is Real Life and Cassidy can't let himself pull back again. So, after the kiss, he rubs his nose against the soft edge of Brad's ear.

For his troubles, he gets a hummed-out sound and Brad turns back toward him, eyes still closed. "Mmm. Morning. Or ... whatever time it is." He offers up a sleepy smile, then asks, "how are you feeling?"

"Not abjectly terrible." Cassidy's mouth is dry and his head has that low drone of a headache, nothing that won't be wished away with another couple of aspirin and some decent food. "How'd you sleep?" He catches a brush of lip against lip with Brad, and yes, the action is Cassidy's doing, too, and he slides his palm up under Brad's shirt, resting it on the bare skin of his stomach.

"I love your bed and your bed loves me." And with that declaration, Brad snuggles back a little more against Cassidy, so that his head is tucked under Cassidy's actually. "You're warm and once I got you on your side, you didn't snore. That was nice." Cassidy can hear the amusement in Brad's voice, but nothing more than that.

"I totally don't snore." One arm is tucked under the pillows under their head and the other tightens around Brad; even though he's miniature, he's _warm_, and Cassidy likes a good snuggle as much as he likes anything else that goes on between the sheets. "Hopefully you'll be spending more time in my bed...?" Suss things out, Brad had said. It doesn't have to be complicated, or at least that's what Cassidy hopes.

Most of the great things in life _aren't_ complicated. A nice cup of tea. Good conversation. Good sex, even. Eyes still closed, Brad says, "I think I can do that. On a few conditions, though." And Cassidy can _feel_ his smile.

"Oh _goodie._ What conditions?" Cassidy's grinning too, smile hidden in Brad's kitteny hair. His fingertip traces out the rim of Brad's navel, under clothes and sheets and that lovely sleepy comfort.

"Well, first, you have to own your snoring. This is a nonnegotiable condition. You snore. It's actually kind of cute. Not loud and nasty like some people, you know?" Then Brad ticks off another finger. "And no more auctioning your underwear. That's just ... well, that's really weird, Cassidy. Are you with me so far?"

"So far, so good. I'm going to leave that pair up though, okay? But no more after that." No comment on the snoring thing. Cassidy Haley does _not_ snore. Ever.

Oh, but he _does_. And if necessary, Brad will use Cassidy's little flip recorder thing to garner evidence. He's not above that. "And last condition." For that, he has to wriggle around so that he can look Cassidy in the face, their legs still tangled together. "If I'm doing this, I'm all in. You know this. So I expect the same. If you flake out on me again? Shame on me, Cassidy."

Cassidy looks at Brad for a long moment, dark eyes meeting dark, and Brad can see the gravity of Cassidy's thoughts right there. "I think I know what I'm getting into, this time. I think I know it's worth something big. I just don't want to disappoint you, Cheeks." His mouth doesn't taste that bad from the inside, so maybe his breath is less than gross when he kisses Brad, slow at first, little bites of one mouth to another, and from there he finds it's easy to touch his tongue against the part of Brad's lips.

"Stale wine breath," Brad informs him, nose wrinkling. "This calls for a shower and a gargle." But he cups Cassidy's face anyway. "You will only let me down if you let yourself down. Right? Right. Come on." And with that, Brad gets out of bed, wearing just a long-shirt, and he holds his hand out for Cassidy's. "Wash with me."

Is that one of _Cassidy's_ shirts? For a second, Cassidy just looks at Brad thinking something totally sappy like _so cute!_ before he follows, pulling his clothes off as he goes. Brad's hand is caught, kisses pressed to his fingertips, and once they're under the spray of water, he hugs Brad again. "You want to go to the cottage again this weekend? No instruments, nothing. Just you and me and that comfy bed and the fireplace?"

"Ooh, you're trying to seduce me, aren't you?" His arms around Cassidy's neck, Brad nods. "I would like that very much, actually." And with the shower raining down on them, he can kiss Cassidy then, right on the mouth, going to his tiptoes to do it, a hand coming up to cradle Cassidy's head, to keep him _right there_.

And when they wake up that Saturday morning at the cabin, they are once again with their heads where their feet should be. Brad doesn't remember how it happened, but he does remember it being _good_.


End file.
